Through the Storm
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: AU. Sequel to "Missing." It's been six years, and the lives of Sam and Dean have settled down. They have a routine, a loving family and friends, and they're happy. But their happiness is short-lived: Events happen that disrupt their lives once again.
1. Chapter 1

**Through The Storm**

_Four Years Later_

Weekdays were hard-most of the occupants of the modest two-story home a few miles from Blue Earth, had to wake up early. Either to get ready for school, or to get ready for work.

It was a routine that was very to the children of the house, but taxing to the adults, who grew to loathe the alarm clock they had to set for the start of the working week.

Caleb Rivers, the youngest adult of the bunch, had an easier time waking up than most, especially since his days and nights weren't entirely in tandem with each other, due to the fact that his hunting work left him up at all hours of the night sometimes.

The sun was still struggling to reach its peak as he made his way downstairs, barely avoiding a discarded backpack that had been left at the bottom of the steps.

"Coffee," he muttered to himself, making a straight shot to the coffee maker. "Coffee solves everything."

While he was struggling to wake up, coffee indeed _did _seem like the supreme savior of the morning, as he poured a liberal amount of cream and sugar into his cup.

"Morning," eleven-year-old Dean said, coming into the room, looking like he was on his last legs as he took a seat at the island counter.

"You look _refreshed_," Caleb remarked dryly, as he raised the cup to his mouth to take a drink.

"It wasn't my fault Mr. Greenwich assigned an impossible science project," Dean remarked grouchily.

Caleb shrugged. "You need an extension?"

"No, it will just make things worse."

Caleb nodded. "Okay, but the offer stands. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Define sleep?"

Caleb shook his head in dark bemusement as he poured Dean a small cup of coffee. "Here, try this. It works like a charm."

Dean took the small mug in his hands, and smiled unsure. "Really?"

"Just don't tell Jim."

Jim didn't like the kids to have coffee, something that Caleb understood, but he felt bad for the kid, and figured that the caffeine would give him the extra boost that he needed.

"Don't tell Jim _what_?" Jim said, coming downstairs, still fixing his tie for work.

"Nothing," both Dean and Caleb said, with a secretive smile on their faces.

"Wish me luck on the trip," Jim said, "Sammy gave me about ten hugs before I came downstairs."

Jim's church had been planning an exclusive mission trip to Africa for the past couple of months, and finally it was happening. The trip would take about two weeks for the group to complete.

"Yeah, of course," Caleb said. "It will be fine."

"It's not exactly me I'm worried about," Jim said.

"Don't be a dork," Caleb said, "I got a handle on everything, and Bobby's coming this weekend anyway."

While that seemed to pacify the worried hunter, he still seemed anxious as he gave Dean a quick hug, knowing how much the kid detested those kinds of things normally.

"Be good while I'm gone."

"Duh," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Be careful."


	2. Chapter 2

Even though most aspects of his life were anything but normal, Dean relished the fact that, for several hours each day, he could escape to that brick building called "school", and indulge in the normal things that kids like him indulged in.

It didn't cover everything.

He still felt the familiar twinges of pain when he thought about his parents for too long, but when he walked into that building with his ten pound backpack weighing him down, he felt his chest expand with hope and freedom.

Friends.

For most hunters (or kids of hunters), the idea was out of the question. People could be killed by anything, just by having an unsafe association with hunters.

But for Dean, he was fortunate enough to have "normal" friends who loved him for who he was, without having any idea of his secret double life.

"See you later," Caleb said, as he dropped him off.

One thing they had to compromise on when it was time for the kids to go to school, was transportation. Dean had wanted to ride the bus initially, but after hearing their safety concerns on that matter, he had reluctantly withdrawn his arguments.

"See ya," Dean said, slamming the door as he hitched his bag over his shoulder, his eyes automatically scanning the crowd of people for his friends, and more importantly, his girlfriend.

They had been going out, (or whatever the term was for eleven-year-old dating), for a few weeks, and so far, no kinks in the relationship.

"Hey, Dean," his girlfriend said, walking up next to him, and linking her hand through his.

"Hey," he said, allowing her to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"You excited about tonight?"

Dean was never usually a person who became confused, but the arch of the eyebrow he gave her, was genuine. "Tonight?"

"The football game," she prompted. "I'm going to be cheering."

"Oh, that. I'll have to ask first."

"Okay," she replied cheerily. "I hope you can make it."

"Me too."

Jim and Caleb never usually minded if he attended the odd school game once in awhile, and he didn't think it would be a problem if he went to this one.

It was one perk of having a permanent home base.

Being able to be and act like a normal pre-teen once in a blue moon.

* * *

Next on the list of Caleb's carpool duties, was dropping Sam off at his kindergarten class. Sam was right on the cusp of graduating from kindergartner to full-fledged first grader, a feat that he was _supremely _proud of.

"Alex is going with me," Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"To First Grade?"

"Yeah," Sam said, kicking his legs lazily against the back seat. "He's excited to have a friend already."

Caleb smiled. "I'm sure he is, bud."

"Oh," Sam said, digging into his backpack for something. "I forgot-can you sign this note for me, please?"

Caleb groaned, running a hand over his face. "Sam, are you _kidding_?"

"_Sorry_, I forgot," he said innocently.

Sam had a nasty habit of hiding those school notes from Caleb and Jim until the last minute, part of it to hide his guilt, and part of it to hide any punishment.

"What is it for?"

"Correcting the teacher," Sam mumbled.

Caleb sighed, before quickly signing the note. "Here. This better be the last one for the rest of the year."

"It will be. Promise."

"Have a good day, kiddo."

"Thanks!"


	3. Chapter 3

Dean loved it when Caleb included him in his hunts. It wasn't just the thrill of the hunt, which could be intoxicating all on its own. What he loved was the level of trust that Caleb put into him, by confiding in him details about the job.

Challenging his brain.

Mostly Dean had worked on the physical aspects of hunting: punches, kicks and gun handling. The _other _aspect of hunting, the one that he was most anxious to start working on, was the one aspect that was the most difficult.

At eleven, Dean wasn't at the age where he could conduct interviews and pass himself off as older than he really was. That would have to wait a few years, but in the meantime, he helped Caleb dissect the clues that were offered from newspaper clippings, and other reliable sources.

That part was hard.

It was training the eye to look at things with a hunting perspective; to turn off the automatic blinders, and trust what his honed instincts were telling him.

"Morning," Dean said, stumbling down the stairs the morning after the football game.

"Morning, dude," Caleb said, raising his life saving mug of coffee to his lips. "Got something."

His interest piqued, he took a seat next to Caleb, and looked over at the paper. A middle-aged couple had been found brutally slaughtered in their home.

The suspect?

Their son who had been home visiting from college.

"Victim says he was not there," Dean read slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Look at this," Caleb said, showing him a grainy black and white image of the man in question. "The eyes," he prompted, pointing at it with his pen.

Leaning foreword as much as he could, Dean could see the flare the eyes gave off in the light of the security camera.

Classic signs of a shape shifter.

"Shifter?"

"Yeah," Caleb sighed. "Poor guy."

Even though as a hunter, he was supposed to separate his feelings from the case, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the victims of whatever demon was intent on destroying their lives.

In this case, some young man was in jail, charged with a murder he hadn't done.

"Where is this?"

"About two hours from here."

Dean nodded. "Can I go?"

Caleb and Jim had allowed him to accompany them on minor salt and burns, and to take care of pesky spirits, but they had never allowed him near anything like that before.

To his disappointment, Caleb shook his head. "No, dude. It's too risky right now. I don't know what I'm dealing with, and Bobby's going to come and make sure you kids are safe."

"But-"

"Dean," Caleb warned, "don't argue."

"Fine. Is there anything I can do to help before you go?"

"Yeah," Caleb nodded, "find the number for the police station in Medina, okay?"

"Sure."

Pulling the phonebook toward him, Dean tried to find a purpose in what he was doing. Helping was important to him, whether it was taking care of Sammy, or helping them track down information.

"Did you find it?" Caleb asked, a while later as he came down the stairs with a fully dressed Sam, who was imitating one of his favorite animals.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I wrote it down."

"Thanks, bud."

Even though he hated being left out of the loop, Dean was still excited for a chance to see Bobby Singer. The older hunter lived in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He visited whenever he could, but both of their schedules sometimes prevented it.

"Hi, Bobby," Dean said, slurping down on his cereal, as he turned to glance at the man.

"Hey, Dean," Bobby said. "Where did they go?"

"Jim's on a mission trip, and Caleb's getting Sam ready for school."

It was a routine that had been in place since before Dean could remember anything. It offered he and Sam security, safety, and the promise that, as unpredictable as their lives were, there was that one thing that was still familiar.

"He and those trips."


	4. Chapter 4

When Bobby visited, things were always fun. He liked to indulge the boys, spoil them since he didn't get the chance to see them too often. Tonight, they were having pizza, and to Dean's utter delight, soda.

While pizza was fairly normal in the house, the guys drew a line when it concerned sugary beverages like soda. For Dean, they allowed him to have the occasional treat.

Sam was another matter.

Already a bubbly and highly energetic child, they drew the line with him. He could have a little, but not nearly as much as they sometimes allowed Dean to have.

It didn't bother him.

Sam always favored juices, much to Dean's amusement, who would drink soda all day if he was allowed.

"Are you drinking or chugging?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Dean all but inhale the drink, as he paused to wipe his mouth off.

"Both," Dean said, allowing a rare grin to grace his features. "You can't hold back with this stuff, Bobby."

The way he said it, like he was talking about some absolute scientific fact. Dean always tended to become dramatic when food was brought into the equation.

"Do you and that soda want some privacy?"

"Sure, if it can be arranged."

Reaching over to punch him in the shoulder, Bobby couldn't hold back a laugh of his own. It always promised to be a good time when he made the trip to Minnesota.

It was a wonderful experience-watching as the boys flourished. Their bond as brothers never better, and each developing unique personalties that were theirs alone.

Dean was quieter, absorbing the things and people around him. Only commenting when the situation called for it, or when he was asked.

Sam was the polar opposite. Loud, curious and energetic, he absorbed the world around him with unrestrained curiosity as he quickly won people over with his charm and smile.

"You idjit," Bobby said.

Since he wasn't a part of their everyday lives, it was clear to the boys, especially Sam, that they could pull things they regularly wouldn't get away with.

Unluckily for them, Bobby was smarter and quickly caught onto their games.

"Bobby, can you turn on my TV?" Sam asked innocently, looking over at the little TV he had in the corner.

The boys were allowed to have a TV in their room, but were not allowed to have it on during the times they went to sleep.

Sam knew that rule. It had been in place since he could remember, but he always hated it.

"No, Sam," Dean said, overhearing the conversation as he walked into the room. "You know you can't."

Sam turned reproachful eyes on his brother, as he stuck his tongue out at him. "Wattle tail, Dean!"

Bobby chuckled at their antics. He wished he could have shared the same bond with a brother or a sister. He had been an only child, the product of a doomed, abusive relationship.

"Go to sleep, Sam," Bobby said, leaning over to give him a brief kiss on the forehead. "In the morning you can watch the TV before school."

"Okay," Sam said with a pout.

"Night, bro," Dean said, his hand on the light switch.

"Night."

Dean followed Bobby down the hall until he reached his room. He enjoyed having his own space apart from Sam. For the first year of their parent's deaths, they had shared a room, but that had ended after Dean had made his requests known.

"Night, Bobby."

Knowing Dean didn't particularly enjoy any of the touchy-feely displays of affection, he simply gave him a high five. "Night, kid, sleep tight."

"You, too."

* * *

_Medina, Minnesota_

Caleb had been in the town of Medina for a few hours, and already he had gotten more information than he had bargained for. The locals, all still in shock over what had happened, had quickly directed him toward the victim's relatives.

He hated this part.

Hated barging in on them when they were still in the mourning stage. It had to be done, though. Not just for them, but for any future victims that might be out there.

"Hi," he said, when a young girl of about eighteen answered the door. "My name's Caleb, I was wondering if I could talk to you-"

"About what?" she interjected, looking behind him as if expecting to see a news van.

"I'm not from the press," he assured her. "I'm someone who can help. What's your name?"

"Lexa."

"Lexa, okay, is anyone home that I can talk with?"

She nodded, stepping aside to allow him access. "My aunt and uncle are taking care of me. They're in the kitchen."

"Okay, thank you."

The couple were enjoying a cup of coffee around the table, when he entered. Both of them still wearing their mourning clothes, as they looked up to greet their visitor.

"This is Caleb," Lexa said, gesturing to him. "He said he could help."

"Help?" the man asked. "With what?"

"With finding out who framed your nephew."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm sorry about my aunt and uncle," Lexa apologized, after they had left. "They're still grieving and-"

"And it didn't help that some strange dude waltzed into their kitchen and asked questions about everything."

Lexa smiled, hiding it behind a thick wave of dirty blond hair. "No, not really. Do you really think you can find whoever framed my brother?" 

_Or whatever_," Caleb thought. "Yes," he said, "I know that I can."

In the past, shifter hunts had become more of the easier ones for him. It was straight foreword, find it and shoot it with silver, and be done.

The aftermath was the tricker part, making the authorities believe that the real suspect was dead, and convince them to let the accused go.

"Thank you," she said, sincerely. "I really appreciate it, and I know that my brother would too."

Caleb nodded, opening the door for her as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. "Tell me about him."

She didn't answer as she unlocked the door, and granted them access. "He's amazing. We fight like crazy, but that's what's cool about it. We know our limits, and he's always there for me, always really protective."

"He's older?"

"Yeah."

Handing him a cup of coffee, she plopped down on her couch. It was older, more worn, but fit easily with the rest of the furniture there.

"Do you feel safe here?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

Apartment buildings were notorious for getting spirits and other creatures due to their easy access.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "I have an alarm, and my Dad taught me how to use a knife when I was younger."

"Good."

"So what are you, exactly?" she asked, looking over at him. "PI or what?"

"You can say that."

It was hard keeping the secret-especially when he would have given anything to be honest with someone like her, someone who deserved the truth.

But he couldn't.

It wasn't just himself that he was worried about. It was any number of things that could happen to her as a result, and he would have had her blood on his hands.

"I always assumed that my Dad would walk me down the aisle. And now?"

"Now you have to figure out a new dream," he said, "figure out a unique way to celebrate them during those special times."

It was a concept he had struggled with.

When his wife and unborn child had been murdered, he had struggled with finding the right way to memorialize them, while singlehandedly hunting down their killer.

"I guess," she said, looking unsure. "I guess."

The morning rush hour before breakfast, was funner than usual, due to the fact that Bobby put his own spin on things when making the breakfast.

"Caleb makes the pancakes crispier," Dean said, watching the way Bobby flipped the pancakes over.

"Can it, idjit."

"And Caleb gives me the dinosaur plate," Sam said, watching as Bobby reached for a regular plate in the cupboard.

Giving him his best definition of a glare, Bobby reached for the correct plate and put it down in front of him. "Anymore requests?"

"No, I think we're good," Dean said, trading smirks with Sam.

They always liked giving him a hard time.

Since they didn't get to see him much, it was easy to pull the wool over his eyes, and fool him into thinking what they wanted him too.

"Jim always takes us to get shakes before school," Dean said, as he pulled on his jacket.

"No, he doesn't," Sam said, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"Thanks a lot," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"You two," Bobby said, shaking his head.


	6. Chapter 6

The overhead lights blared painfully down on him, as Caleb rubbed his face tiredly between his two hands. The last twenty-four hours had all passed in a blur as he thought back to what had transpired.

Foolishly, he had left Lexa alone to go chase down a lead. The shifter had used that opportunity to take his form, break into the apartment and brutally slaughter her.

When he had made his way back to her apartment to check on her, his way had been blocked by the procession of police and FBI trucks that lined her street.

It hadn't taken long for the police to zero in on him, as the last person that had seen her alive. That was why he always hated the police, their thinking could be so distorted that they could put two and two together and come up with five.

They got in the way of the hunt.

They always assumed the worst about you.

And they placed blame on the easy suspect, the one who had the most likely chance of being convicted.

It was with that thinking that he walked into the interrogation room to be questioned by them. It wasn't something that he had a choice in, either. Sure, he could run, but that would have far reaching consequences that he wasn't prepared to face.

The door slammed open. In walked two uniformed investigators, as they each took a seat across from him.

"Caleb Rivers?"

"Y-yes."

He supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise that they had managed to scrounge up his real name. He almost never used it, except around town and for his shop.

Hunting happened to be a highly illegal life, with the credit card scams, and the occasional body that would turn up, that would be linked to his name, like now.

"We're here to discuss the murder of Alexia Branch on the twenty-seventh of October."

They had placed a tape recorder on the table in front of him to record any confession he made to them.

They would be waiting a long time.

"What's that for?" he asked, pointing at the recorder.

"Just to make a record of this conversation," the one investigator said.

"How did you come to meet Lexa?"

"I was helping her family figure out what happened to her parents and help exonerate her brother," he said, figuring it would serve him better if he was as honest as possible.

"And when was this initial meeting?"

"Two days ago."

"Do you have any formal training to help them?" his tone was laced with judgment as he scrutinized Caleb.

"No," Caleb said, leveling his gaze on the investigators. "I don't, but I was someone who could offer support, and help them find the right people to help them."

The investigator nodded, though Caleb could tell that they didn't believe him. It infuriated him, but he knew there was nothing he could do to sway their opinion of him.

"When was the last time you saw her before she died?"

"I can't give you an exact time. A few hours."

"You weren't there?"

Caleb shook his head. "No."

He didn't like the way this interrogation was going. They were trying to pin him to the scene of the crime, and that was when he knew he had to be so careful with how he said things, and what he said.

"We have two witnesses who place you at the scene of the crime right _after _the murder took place."

Caleb felt his blood run cold as he struggled to keep a lid on his emotions, and not let them betray how scared he was starting to become.

"I wasn't there."

He wasn't, either. The shifter had gotten to her after he had left. It would have been nice to tell them the truth, but all that would have gotten him a rubber cell.

The investigators exchanged amused glances, as though they had heard this argument a thousand times, which they probably had, but in this case, he was telling the truth.

"Then explain this."

He had pulled out a plastic bag with a silver hunting dagger inside it. Caleb leaned foreword, examining it. It was his knife, the one he commonly used for hunting.

His heart had permanently lodged itself in his stomach as he looked at the knife. Somehow the shifter had stolen it from him, and used it to kill Lexa.

The perfect setup.

"That's not-"

"We already tested the knife. Your DNA is all over it."

His throat felt dry as he looked at them. It was serious, and he knew that. He only wished that he would have had his attorney, Dawn there, for support.

Even now, he felt foolish for having agreed to this meeting.

"I don't know what to say," he said. "She was my friend, I would never do anything to her."

"Did you kill her?"

"No."

"If you admit to this, we could cut you a deal-"

"No."

"Fine," the investigator said. "We'll review all of our files, and get back to you. Just don't leave the state."

* * *

Walking into the upscale restaurant, his eyes automatically scanned the patrons for one face in particular.

When he finally spotted her, he made a straight shot toward her table. "Hey," he said, sitting down across from her.

"It's good to see you," Dawn said.

"Same. I just wish it wasn't for these circumstances."

Dawn had been his attorney for years, ever since he had recruited her after one of his other legal cases. He had told her enough just to get her to trust him, and it had worked.

"So I looked through the police report, and it doesn't look good."

"It doesn't?"

"I have to warn you, these are pretty graphic."

He nodded, mentally preparing himself for whatever she was about to show him. As a hunter, he was no stranger to viewing grisly documents and photos, but this case was personal, the person killed, a friend of his.

When Dawn slid the photographs across to him, he closed his eyes, before looking down at them. As she had warned him, they were graphic.

Crime scene photographs depicted the weapon (his blade), and the disarray the apartment was in when she was discovered. Flipping through them, he barely withheld a gasp when he saw her.

Her eyes wide, unseeing. Her throat slashed, exposing the horrific manner in which she was killed.

"What does all this mean?"

Dawn sighed, choosing that moment to take a sip of her drink. "DNA doesn't lie, but it can be tampered with, planted for one reason or another.

"The cops?"

"Possibly. Or maybe the person that wanted to frame you if that's what happened."


	7. Chapter 7

Rolling through his town finally, Caleb let out the biggest sigh of relief in his life. He had gone into the hunt, believing that it would have the same outcome that all of the other ones had had.

And he had been wrong.

Instead, he had (foolishly) gotten too attached to one of the victims, and had then had to endure the same girl get murdered by the same thing he had come to hunt.

And then the police interrogations.

Shifters were sneaky creatures, able to shed their own skin and morph into the person of their choice. Teeth, skin, eyes, it didn't matter, as long as they pulled off the appearance authentically.

It had worked.

Now the police were zeroing in on him for her murder.

Exhausted didn't even begin to cover it as he swiped a hand over his face. Dawn had warned him not to leave the state, and he fully intended on obeying that rule.

The last thing he wanted was to attract more police attention.

Pulling into his driveway, he allowed himself to sit there for a minute, enjoying the simple fact that he was home, and not in that awful town again, before he got out, grabbed his bags and walked in.

The house was empty-a glance at the clock confirmed that the boys were due to be home from school any minute. Probably Bobby was out getting them now.

Taking advantage of that, he got out a can of beer and indulged himself.

Usually, they never drank in front of the boys, but he figured it wouldn't do any harm if they weren't even there yet.

"You're back," Bobby said, stating the obvious once the garage door opened and he and the boys flocked in.

"I am."

He wanted to tell them about the case, but not in front of Sam. At seven, they were still trying to shield him as much as possible from that life. It was too traumatizing for a child to know, and they wanted him to enjoy his childhood for as long as possible.

"How was it?" Dean asked, careful not to elaborate in front of Sam.

"Interesting. I'll tell you two later," he added, glancing over at an oblivious Sam, who was chowing down on the snacks Caleb had set out for them.

Bobby nodded. "Sounds good."

While he believed that the kids should be prepared for what could come, he also believed that they should be allowed to be kids. For Dean, he had been unintentionally exposed to the truth, therefore making him more of a target for the enemy.

Sam was still young enough so that he could go on, believing that everything was okay in the world, that his parents had died in accidents.

"Has anyone heard from Jim?" Caleb asked, making conversation as Bobby got dinner ready.

"Yeah, this morning," Dean said. "He's good, he's going to be home next week."

"Good."

"I miss him," Sam said, lighting kicking his feet against the table. "He better not ever leave again!"

Caleb chuckled. "We'll make sure of that."

Sometimes it was impossible not to laugh at Sam. He had boundless energy and was such a positive and happy little guy that he could make you feel better even in your darkest of days.

"Are you guys going to sit there and yap? Or are you going to come and help me bring this stuff to the table?" Bobby groused, as he set the pasta out on the counter for them to grab.

"We were thinking about it," Dean said, projecting the illusion of all seriousness as he got up, and helped Caleb move the food to the table.

"Wow," Caleb said, as he started eating the scrumptious food. "I never knew you could actually cook."

"I'm a bucket full of surprises," Bobby replied dryly. "Sam, stop kicking the table."

In response, Sam stuck his tongue out at him.

"Do you want to go to the corner?" Caleb asked, leveling with him.

"No," Sam pouted.

"Then eat, and stop kicking the table."

"Fine."

Sam could be incredibly stubborn at times, rivaling that of even his guardians, as he tried his hardest to get what he wanted when he wanted.

He wasn't an idiot, though. He knew his limits when they were imposed.

After dinner, Dean helped clean up, while Caleb gave Sam a bath and put him to bed. After that, he and Bobby and Dean sat around the table to discuss his hunt.

It was a nightly ritual they did every time one of them left for something big. They would make sure Sam was safely tucked in bed, and then sit around and discuss the events of their day.

"So what happened?" Dean asked. "Did you find the shifter?"

Caleb shook his head. "It found me."

"Go on," Bobby said, studying him closely.

"I met with the vic's family, and I ended up hanging out with their niece, and long story short, the shifter somehow got that silver hunting knife I have, and he used it to kill her. But not before using _my _appearance as his next meat suit."

Dean gulped down his drink, as he looked at Caleb. "So what happened after that?"

"Now the cops are trying to build a case against me. They have the knife, and they have my DNA all over the thing."

"So what does that mean for _you_?" Bobby asked, trading startled glances with Dean.

"I don't know. Dawn is working on it, but she can't work miracles."

"Do you think anything will happen?" Dean asked, shifting nervously in his seat.

"I don't know," Caleb said honestly. "I hope not, but with the way the cops work, it's not a guarantee."

He hated seen the crestfallen look on Dean's face. At eleven, he had already gone through more loss than most people twice his age, and somehow, he was still okay, still thriving with his new family.

But if anything happened to any of his guardians, Caleb knew that Dean wouldn't be able to handle it.

"How long before you know?" Bobby asked, taking a sip from his mug.

"I don't know."


	8. Chapter 8

Whenever one of the boys had an activity after school (baseball in Dean's case. And soccer in Sam's), the guys made every effort to attend the games, and cheer on the boys.

It was a healthy outlet for them, and gave them an opportunity to interact with their peers and teachers on a positive, competitive note.

That windy, September evening after school, it was Sam's turn to be in the spotlight as he geared up for one of the first games of the season. Bubbling with an almost toxic energy, he could barely stand still as he put on his uniform and protective gear.

"Remember, guard the ball, Sam," Dean reminded him, as Sam prepared to head out to the field to meet up with his coach and teammates.

"I _know_, Dean," Sam said, characteristically rolling his eyes, as though he was affronted that Dean would dare give him a suggestion.

"Okay," Dean said, holding his hands up placatingly. "Just sayin'."

Dean then retreated to the spectator stands where Caleb and Bobby were. It was unseasonably cold so Dean had given in, and had worn his jacket for the occasion, even though he normally couldn't stand it.

"How long as he been on the team?" Bobby asked, watching as Sam got in his position.

"A few months," Caleb replied.

Sam played the part of defender, the person in charge of making sure the ball didn't get into his goal.

He took his job very seriously, and regularly practiced with Caleb when he wasn't on the field.

Sam was a bundle of energy on good days. On bad days, he was absolutely incontrollable, which was nice when gams fell on those days, and could tire him out.

"He hasn't talked about anything since," Dean said. "He's obsessed."

They didn't have much time to talk after that. The game started with typical gusto as the players raced around the field, each trying to claim victory for their team.

The game ended an hour in, with Sam's team winning the game. The exultant look on his face, was priceless as his team all gathered around him, praising him and giving him pats on the back.

The guys and Dean were some of the first from the stands, to flock onto the field. When Sam saw them, he broke apart from his friends, and went to hug his family.

"Did you see? Did you see?" he shouted, as he excitedly fist pumped the air. "I did it!"

"Good job, rugrat," Bobby said, giving him a hug. "It was the best game I've ever seen."

Even though he had never watched a game of soccer in his life, he still wanted to make an impression on the kid.

"You were amazing," Caleb said, "and clearly your friends think so, too."

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling.

* * *

To celebrate his victory, the entire family went out to eat pizza at their local pizza parlor. Sam got to have his favorite, double cheese and mushrooms, while Dean and the guys ordered peperoni on theirs.

It was a night that Dean and especially Caleb, rejoiced in. They were two of the only people who knew about his impending legal case, and what could happen.

It was a burden that Dean was grateful Sam didn't have to share in or have knowledge of.

Once their pizza had been devoured, they departed the pizza shack with full tummies, and in Sam's case, heavy eyes as he fell into a slumber in the backseat.

He barely stirred when he was carried into his room by Bobby, and when the covers were gently drawn over him. The game had worn him out so completely, that he slept throughout the entire night.

Jim returned the next morning from his mission trip. It had been a long, eventful journey, full of delayed flights, and sleepless nights in the airport.

The boys, who were not aware of his return, were pleasantly surprised when they bounded down the stairs for school, and saw him in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee.

"When did you get back?" Dean asked, as he piled his stuff in his schoolbag.

"This morning, early."

"Awesome," Dean grinned. "How did it go?"

While he understood Jim taking trips like that, it still made him nervous that something could happen, that he could lose yet another person in his arms length of a list.

"It was eventful, but it was successful. We reached a lot of people."

"Good."

While Dean understood faith, and what Jim did to help people, he still wasn't sure whether or not he actually _believed _or not. Too many bad things had happened in his lifetime for him to be convinced of some higher up that was good, that was controlling everything.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

Dean shrugged. "The usual."

He wanted to tell him about Caleb's case, but he figured that was a burden that Caleb had to tell him.

"I suppose that's good?"

Dean nodded.

"Are you kids headed off to school?"

"Yeah, just about."

"Good."


	9. Chapter 9

Caleb had gotten up after the boys had gone to school. Dawn had told him she would call when she heard anything new, and so far there had been radio silence on her end.

He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. More than likely, she was testing the waters, talking to the DA and prosecutors, and finding out what their take on the crime was.

As a result, he had spent a restless night tossing and turning, and he still hadn't told Jim what had happened. Every time he spoke about it, the surreality of it, grew dimmer and dimmer.

The first few days, his mind had been in a perpetual state of fogginess, denying what had just happened to him and to Lexa, but it had all come crashing down on him when he had been hauled in for questioning.

The silver hunting blade was their smoking gun.

It had his DNA on it.

The perfect cover-up on the shifter's part.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on, and went downstairs. Jim was still there, no doubt planning on returning to work later than normal in order to catch up on his lost sleep.

"Hi," Jim said, looking up as he walked into the kitchen. "Coffee? Fresh out of the pot."

Caleb nodded, sliding himself into a chair closest to him. "Thanks."

Caleb watched tiredly, as Jim made him the blessed cup of coffee. It was his only lifesaver at the moment, as he tried to keep himself conscious.

A restless night of sleep would do that to a guy.

"Thanks," Caleb said gratefully, as Jim laid the cup down in front of him.

"So what happened while I was gone? Dean seemed kind of vague about that."

Caleb shrugged, as he took a particularly large gulp of the searing liquid. "I had a hunt."

"Where?" Jim asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Medina, a small town about an hour from here."

"What kind?"

"Shifter."

Jim shook his head. "Those are tricky ones. They can take your form like that, and-"

"And it did.

"It _did_?"

"Yeah. Killed this girl that I had been friends with, and framed me. In a nutshell."

Jim sighed, running a hand across his jaw. "So what now?"

"I had to go to the station, where they tried to coerce me into confessing. Of course, I didn't."

"Do you have anyone on this?"

"Yeah, my attorney. She's a real powerhouse. If she can't figure this out, no one can."

"Good."

When you were involved in that kind of life, where fraud and all sorts of criminal behavior, was the norm, it was only to be expected that you would attract police attention.

They were used to that.

It was when the stakes were raised higher, when murder was involved, that it became a different matter altogether.

For the most part, the guys had managed to fly under the radar when they conducted their dealings, but sometimes the other shoe would drop, and they would need to be even more cautious in how they conducted themselves.

"I haven't heard from her, though. It's making me nervous."

"Well, no news is good news, right?"

"Not in this case."

He would rather know what was happening, then be worried over it for however long it took for Dawn to get back with him.

When the phone rang, Caleb gave Jim an incredulous look, before getting up to answer it.

"Hello?"

_Hi, Caleb._

"Hey, Dawn," he said, turning to give Jim a look.

_I just got off the phone with the DA's office. They don't have a decision yet, as far as possible prosecution, but they want you to come to the office today and they want to talk again._

Is-is that good?"

_It's not great, but at least they're not jumping the gun and having you arrested._

Caleb didn't share her same optimism. "When do I have to be there?"

_In an hour. I figured I would call and let you get ready._

"Thanks."

* * *

Walking into the local DA's office, was an experience that Caleb would soon rather forget. Standing in the lobby with Dawn, he nervously shifted from foot to foot as he tried to forget why he was there.

When they were finally called back, he gave Dawn a strained look as they were directed to one of the small offices.

"Mr. Rivers," a short, bulky man said, entering the office and closing the door. "I'm Richard Ax, one of the DA's in charge of the case."

"Nice to meet you."

"I've gone over the files that were transferred from Medina, and it says that you refused a deal that would get you less jail time?"

"I didn't do anything. That's why I refused it."

Richard smiled, something that positively infuriated Caleb, especially since these circumstances were anything _but _funny.

"We have your DNA on the murder weapon-"

"I know."

"And we also have _her _blood mixed in with it."

Caleb felt his blood run cold, as he heard that piece of information, something that hadn't been divulged to him when he had first been questioned.

"I don't know-"

"We have a solid case, and the only thing that you can do for yourself, is accept a deal."

"I didn't do this," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "I would never do anything like that. Ever!"

"Where is the forensic report that concerns the DNA findings?" Dawn asked. "I need a copy."

"Of course," Richard said politely. "Right now, you are facing a murder one charge, minimum of fifty years in prison, maximum of life without the possibility of parole."

Caleb felt sick as he struggled to keep his attention focused on the DA. It almost seemed like the DA was taking pleasure in persecuting him.

"That's if I did anything."

"We have all the evidence we need. All we need is for a judge to sign off on it, and we're good to go."


	10. Chapter 10

Caleb was beyond furious when he stormed out of the DA's office. It wasn't just the fact that, in his mind, they were out on a witch hunt, it was the fact that he _knew _he was the easier suspect to convict, and it made him infuriated.

He was a hunter.

No matter how honestly he tried to live because of the boys, the unhonest part of his life always came back and bit him the ass.

Hunters, no matter how honestly they tried to live, always encountered some form of illegal activity or another. Not out of need, but out of necessity.

Changing their identifications if they had to move.

Wrestling a few credit card scams or another.

He didn't like it, but that was how it had to be sometimes.

Murder was different.

A murder charge upped the ante several hundred notches.

A murder one charge, like the one he was facing, was a guaranteed life sentence.

The thought of prison in itself didn't scare him. He could handle any of those guys any day and not even blink, but it was the thought of being there when he knew in his gut he didn't deserve it.

The boys.

It gutted him when he thought of him.

In the past six years, they had been faced with not only losing their mother, but a year later, their father, to much the same fate.

Having him go? Especially with the bond he had formed with not only Dean, but with Sam, would be catastrophic for both of them.

As he drove down the quiet neighborhood street toward their new house, he tried not to think about it as he pulled into the driveway.

Glancing at the clock as he walked into the house, he saw that the boys would already be home. No doubt, in Sam's case, working on whatever assignment the teacher had given him.

He was so invested in school. It made Caleb smile, even when the same couldn't be said for him at that age.

"Hey," Dean said, coming into the kitchen and situating himself near the counter where Caleb was. "Where did you go?"

Caleb sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he considered whether or not he should tell Dean, worry him unnecessarily over something that hadn't even happened yet.

"I had a meeting I had to run off to."

"Where?"

Long ago, when Dean had turned a certain age, Caleb swore to himself that, no matter how harsh the truth would be, it would certainly be better than lying to him.

Ruining that foundation now seemed like an impossibility to him.

"The District Attorney's office."

Realization lit up Dean's face, as he looked nervously at him. "Why? Do they have more evidence?"

"It was basically an overview, but yeah, they're all but certain this thing is going to proceed."

He watched as Dean swallowed thickly, before he spoke again. "What does that mean for _you_?"

"All they need is a judge to sign off on it. If that happens, we're going to have to make a decision, fast."

"What kind of decision?"

"Whether we stay and fight this, or if we decide to run."

Dean nodded, looking down at the ground as he shifted his feet nervously. "Is that an option?"

"I would rather not, Dean."

"Why?"

The way he spoke it, he was genuinely confused about why Caleb would think that would be a bad idea.

"Because I don't want to put that on you kids. I don't want you to leave this home, and your friends-"

"Forget about them," Dean fired back. "You're my family, Jim and Bobby and Sam are, too. Not my friends."

"I know, bud, but there are other factors, too."

"Like _what_?"

"If we run, there might come a day when they find me anyway. It would only make things worse on all of us in the end."

It was clear that Dean didn't like what he was hearing, but he stayed silent as he turned from Caleb and got a soda out of the fridge.

"I don't mind running."

"I know you don't," Caleb said with a small smile, "but this hasn't even happened yet. We're jumping the gun by talking about this now."

Almost on cue, the phone rang.

Glancing at Dean wearily, Caleb reached foreword to pick it up.

"Hello?"

_Caleb, it's Dawn. Listen, I just got off the phone with the DA._

Feeling his heart race, Caleb nodded. "And?"

_The judge signed off on it._

His mouth felt dry as he closed his eyes, trying to ward off the nausea that he was experiencing in waves. "What does that mean?"

_They're going to charge you with murder one. They already have a warrant out._


	11. Chapter 11

Caleb felt numb after he had hung up with Dawn. She had told him that she would arrange for him to turn himself in at a designated time, if he agreed to that.

He told her he would think about it.

Leaning against the counter, trying desperately to regain his sense of equilibrium, he ran a weary hand across his face as he considered the mountainous decision ahead of him.

If he surrendered, he would be subjecting himself to months, if not years, of confinement while a trial or whatever legal proceeding, happened, and then face the very real possibility of being convicted and sentenced to life.

The thought of prison it itself didn't scare him.

It was the boys, and how they had already lost so much, that scared him.

Dean, at eleven, had seen the death of his mother and then barely a year later, the loss of his father to the same evil.

Sam, at only seven, had lost his mother and his father, and now maybe even Caleb.

If he didn't have to worry about the boys, he wouldn't be as concerned about going, but it was the moments he would miss. The parties, the graduations, and the moments in between.

"What did Dawn say?" Dean asked, jolting Caleb out of his scattered thoughts, as he glanced at the precocious child.

"She," Caleb swallowed convulsively. "She told me that the judge signed off on the warrant."

He could see faint realization light up Dean's features, as he sank down slowly into a chair. "So what does that mean for you? Are you being charged?"

Caleb nodded, as he took a seat beside him. "Yeah, I am. Now, we have to make a choice. Fast."

They always had the option of running to avoid this, packing up and moving across the country if they had to, but while it would be a solution, it wouldn't ever solve the issue of the manhunt that would ensue if that happened.

"What kind of decision?" Dean asked, as he carefully studied his guardian.

"Whether we pack up and leave all of _this_," he said, gesturing around the house, "or if we stay and fight this head on."

Not to his surprise, Dean was instantly on the side of running.

He had done it before when his dad was still alive, and it wouldn't be a big deal to do it again.

But being a kid, Dean had no idea of the ramifications of such a move, and what it would do to them physically, as well as emotionally.

It was an impossible burden to carry, having to decide what their course of action would be.

"When we took you kids in," Caleb said, his voice thick. "We promised that we wouldn't move you around the country, we wouldn't have that kind of life for you if we didn't have to."

"But now you _do_," Dean said, contradicting him. "We're a family, Caleb, and that's how it's been for the past six _years_. We stick together, no matter what. That's what you and Jim taught us."

Caleb nodded. "I know, bud, but at some point, we have to make the hard choice."

"You're not going to leave, Caleb. I can't lose _another _person, another family member. I can't handle it, and neither will Sam."

Sam was fortunate that he didn't have to carry the weight the rest of his family did. At seven, there was no need to train him in hunting, not yet at least.

What would he think if Caleb all of a sudden left?

What would he think if they decided to pack up and move?

Motel rooms and backwoods cabins, that would be their life if they decided to make a run for it.

"We could run, assume new identities in front of other people, but that would never change the fact that there _might _come a day when they find me, anyway."

"Might," Dean reminded him. "Jim told me that home is wherever the heart is, and wherever our family is. I don't care if we have to rought it in a motel or cabin, at least we'd be together!"

Caleb nodded, as he reached over for the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Jim."

Jim's work schedule was relatively relaxed, allowing him to leave if he had to, and come back when he could.

As he spoke to Jim about the situation at hand, he glanced at Dean, and was stunned to see a solitary tear fall out of the corner of his eye.

Dean was never someone who cried for nothing. If he was crying, he was in pretty desperate straits, then.

"What did Jim say?" Dean asked, effortlessly, or so it seemed on the outside, consoling himself as he looked at Caleb.

"He's coming home and then we'll all have a meeting to talk about what's going to happen."


	12. Chapter 12

Caleb was grateful when Jim walked through the door, hours ahead of schedule, since Caleb had called him, asking him to come and help him sort out the monstrous decision he had to make.

Stay and fight.

Or run and leave.

Either way, it would involve the entire family, and no one person could decide something that big.

Jim bent down, greeting an ecstatic Sam, before ushering him in the living room to watch his afternoon cartoons, while he, Caleb and Dean talked in the kitchen.

"What did Dawn say?" Jim asked, as he started the inevitable conversation.

"She said that the judge signed off on the case, meaning that he basically signed a warrant for my arrest."

Beside him, Dean's face was a ghostly white as he kicked his feet lazily below the table.

Dean was tough, resilient for his age, but there were some things he couldn't even comprehend and that was losing one of his guardians, for any reason.

"What are your options?"

"I can turn myself in. Or we can pack up and leave."

Dean shook his head silently, disagreeing with the first option entirely. For Dean, it didn't matter if they had to spend their lives running, just as long as they had each other and their family intact.

Jim sighed, silently folding his hands over one another as he voiced his next inquiry. "How long of a sentence would you get?"

"The kind where the guard throws away the key."

The older hunter was silent as he absorbed those words. Hunting was always a risky game to be in, the stakes continuously raised higher and higher.

It was different when the stake was murder.

And someone they deeply cared about, would go down for it.

"I wouldn't mind leaving, moving somewhere else," Jim said with a shrug. "I mean, you don't deserve this, not at all."

Across from him, Dean nodded in agreement, clearly pleased with how the conversation was playing out in Caleb's favor.

"Yeah, but we made a promise, do you remember that?"

"Yeah, I do," Jim nodded.

When they had first agreed to raise the boys after John's death, they had agreed that they wouldn't raise them the conventional way that most hunters raised their kids, that they would instead, raise them as normal as they could.

Up and running contradicted that game plan that had been in store for six years.

"Well then, we knew that something like this would happen."

"I know, but this is your life, Caleb," Jim said seriously.

"And it's the boys I'm worried about."

Even if they were able to successfully allude the police for years, it could still catch up to them, and the boys would have to watch him as he was hauled away to even worser fate.

"We're still a family," Dean argued quietly, lowering his head to escape the irksome tears that kept insisting on paying him a visit.

"I know, and we still will be," Caleb said, leaning over and rubbing his shoulder, even though Dean usually didn't favor that kind of touch. "We always will be, bud."

"It won't be the same."

Who would train him the way Caleb did? With lots of laughs and good times. Who would include him in the hunts the way Caleb did?

And more importantly, who would ever replace the way he was there for not only him, but for Sammy, coaching him with soccer and any other sport he liked at the moment?

"I know, but this way, you can stay in your school, you can stay with your friends and you and your brother won't have to live with the fear and uncertainty of running _constantly_."

Caleb had seen what that kind of life had done to the boys when John was alive, and that was the last thing he wanted for them now.

"So you're definitely going to do it?" Dean challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I haven't decided yet. I have to by the end of the day, but I haven't decided for sure."

"Okay."

Even though Caleb was all but certain he knew what his decision would be.


	13. Chapter 13

After their impromptu family meeting had concluded, Caleb went downstairs to quietly reflect on the events of the past few days, and come to some kind of definitive decision.

The basement was his own little haven, as he paced across the finished off floor. He most often used it for training sessions with Dean, or when he wanted to just get away for a few hours, and watch a movie on the large screen TV.

As he ran a world-weary hand over his face, he went over everything that had been discussed at the meeting. Both Jim and Dean had brought up good points, that he took into consideration as he thought.

If he stayed and fought the charges head on, it would make an impression on whoever would be presiding over the case.

If he bolted and ran, it would only make things that much worse for him in the end if he was caught. Not to mention the very real risk of Sam and Dean seeing him get arrested.

It was an impossibly difficult decision to make, and he recognized that better than anyone. The circumstances so unique and different from anyone else's.

Even with all the doubt circulating in his mind, he did know that he didn't want to renege on the promise he had made with Jim, that the boys would know the ugly and dirty aspects of hunting, but they wouldn't know the feeling of having to run and move around constantly.

This was on him.

Not them.

It wasn't on them to leave their school, leave their friends and everything that they had grown to love in the last six years.

He didn't want to leave them.

He didn't want to miss out on their lives, on their school functions and games. He didn't want to miss waking up to their toothless grins in the morning, he didn't want to miss making them his "award winning" pancakes every morning, with the crispy-free edges.

"I thought I'd find you here," Dean said, as he came down the stairs.

"Yeah," Caleb said, as he took a seat on the black leather sectional sofa they had. "I was just down here thinking about everything."

"The stuff we talked about?" Dean asked, as he took a seat next to Caleb.

"Yeah, mostly."

Dean nodded, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that was rapidly festering with all sorts of bad feelings, and nervousness.

"What did you decide?"

Dean desperately didn't want Caleb to leave. In the place of his actual parents, the guys had become his family, biological or not.

Caleb was more like a father and mentor to him than just about anyone, and he shuddered at the thought of losing someone so precious and irreplaceable.

"Well," Caleb said with a sigh, as he wound an arm around Dean's shoulder. "I thought about it, and I took into consideration everything that you brought up."

Dean nodded, swallowing convulsively. "And?"

When Dean had reached a certain age, Caleb had started becoming more honest and open with him, figuring that there was no reason to hide the truth from him if he was mature enough to handle it.

It was one of the perks of their bond, that they could share anything with each other, and know that they would always have the ability to talk it over and resolve whatever issue came up.

"I think I'm going to stay here and fight this thing."

Dean nodded, as though he already knew what his decision would be, as he lowered his head, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

"You didn't do it," Dean reiterated, his voice breaking.

"I know, bud, but until this mess is cleared up, we just have to lay low and follow what they're doing."

"It's not fair."

The whole situation screamed the unfairness of it all. It was horrifying that he was on the verge of losing yet another person in his life.

"I know, but right now-"

"What happens if you go to trial and convicted?"

The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he was determined to put those harmful thoughts on the backburner until it actually happened.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to. Bud, it's okay," he said, when a lone tear slid down Dean's face.

"No, it's not. None of this is. You and Jim and Bobby, you're all we have, and now you're going?"

"I'll be home again, Dean," Caleb said, adjusting his position so Dean could lay his head on his shoulder.

"Don't say things you can't promise," Dean said, sucking in a deep breath to try to reign in his emotions.

Caleb nodded, tightening his grip on the eleven-year-old. "I never would. When I say I'll be home again, I will be. One way or another."

"All the things you'll miss," Dean said, shaking his head. "Sam's games," another tear fell down his cheek, "and my birthday."

It was coming up in a few weeks, and the guys always took him out to an arcade or for pizza, or for some activity that he liked to do.

It was a tradition for them to do that, and Dean couldn't imagine doing it with one person missing from the equation.

"And do you think I want to trade that for a _cell_?" Caleb asked incredulously. "I don't, but right now, this is what is we have."

Dean shook his head silently.

Caleb shook his head, swiping a hand across his face to keep any stray tears at bay.

"What will Sammy think?"

"He's going to think that I'm working a job, and that I might be gone awhile," Caleb said, fighting to keep his voice straight. "And that I love him very much."

Dean shook his head, tears free falling down his face as he reached over to hug his guardian. "This isn't right."

"But it's the only option right now."

* * *

Walking upstairs to face Sam, Caleb almost, cowardly, backed out. Sam was too innocent to expose to this kind of evil, he was too young to lose yet another person in his life.

He was playing with his coloring books, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that his brother and guardian were going through.

"Hey, dude," Caleb said, picking Sam up and balancing him on his hip.

"Hi," Sam said, still eyeing the coloring book that had been left abandoned on the ground. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

Sam's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion.

"About the fact that I'm going away for a little while."

"Where?"

Caleb sighed, pausing to swallow back the tears, as he held Sam tighter. "I'm going to be working."

Sam would believe that.

He was used to Caleb working and leaving at a moment's notice. It was much easier than telling him the truth, that he was going to jail, possibly for the rest of his life.

"Top secret?" Sam asked, smiling.

"Top secret," Caleb affirmed, before hugging him close. "I love you so much, Sammy."

"I love you too," Sam said, returning the hug.

When he set Sam down, and got his jacket on, he turned to Dean and gave him another big hug.

"I love you so much, dude."

Dean nodded, shaking his head tearfully. "I love you."

"I love you, too."


	14. Chapter 14

Dean watched Caleb walk out the door with Jim. His heart felt weighted down, like it was being towed down by a mountain of bricks as he wiped an arm across his eyes, not willing to let his baby brother see his inner pain.

It would defeat the whole purpose of keeping Sam in the dark if he caught his brother break down over his departure.

Instead, as painful as it was inside, he forced a smile on his face as he helped Bobby with dinner, and wrestled Sam into his seat, who was too focused on his toy cars to care about food.

The delicacy of the night, was pot roast. Dean liked it, Sam thought it was gross but could be tempted to eat it with the right bribe.

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asked innocently, obliviously unaware of what had transpired right in front of him that day.

"Yeah," Dean said with a shrug, though in reality, he was barely keeping the tears at bay, as he thought about where Caleb was at that moment, and what he was going through.

He had never seen the inside of a jail before, only in the skewed version of TV shows and movies. He could only imagine how truly worse the real thing was, and that made him sick with pain.

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked, as he glanced at Dean over the rim of his cup.

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The situation was so unfair on so many levels. He had lost so much in his eleven years of life, and now this was akin to placing another nail in the coffin.

Acutely aware of Sam studying him, he turned from him so he could cry for a few seconds into his shirt, before he turned back to face him.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, definitely aware that something wasn't right.

"I'm fine," Dean said, forcing a smile on his face. "Really."

Sam seemed to take that at face value. He didn't comment on Dean's shaken appearance anymore, as he dug into his food, eager to get his hands on the ice cream that accompanied it.

"What kind of job is Caleb on?" Sam asked.

"An exciting one," Bobby said, embellishing for maximum believability.

Dean didnt' say anything. He wasn't in the mood to joke around about this, even for his brother's sake. It was too fresh, too new for him.

"Cool!"

"I'll bet he'll come home with lots of stories."

"I hope."

Neither of them had the heart to tell Sam that he might never even see Caleb again. That bridge would b crossed when and if they ever came to it.

It was after dark when Jim finally returned from dropping Caleb off at the jail. His expression said it all, as he took off his coat, hung it on the hook and turned to Dean.

Momentarily forgetting Sam was watching their every move, Dean leapt off his chair and into Jim's arms.

Even though he despised crying, Dean couldn't help it as he buried his head in Jim's chest and sobbed.

Jim's heart melted for the suffering child, as he wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight hug. "I know," he said soothingly, as he rubbed Dean's back. "I know."

The next few days passed in a perpetual state of shock for Dean, who found it was better to just not say anything, because if he did, he was sure he would break down again.

Instead, he focused on the tasks ahead of him as he helped Sam get ready for school, made sure that both of their backpacks were packed with the necessary things.

The only thing that really excited him was training. Even though Caleb was the one who normally trained him, he jumped at the chance for a distraction when Bobby presented him with the opportunity.

"Okay," Bobby said, as they walked out onto the field behind their house. "How does Caleb usually start off these sessions?"

Dean paused, taking a glance at the guns and other weaponry that Bobby had laid down on the ground.

"Um, usually, he has me run laps first," Dean said.

"Okay, how many?"

Bobby was desperate to keep things as familiar and engaging for the kid as possible.

"Two."

"Okay, run two laps."

Dean nodded, as he took off at a light sprint, and gradually gained speed as he got more and more comfortable with his body.

Feeling the air circulate around his lungs as he ran, he felt free for the first time in days. Training, running, and handling the guns, it was fun and he was in desperate need of that.

"Okay, "Bobby said, a smile on his face when Dean stopped in front of him. "Very good."

"Thanks."

"Now, what? You tell me."

"Next, he would work with me with the guns or physical combat."

"Which one would _you _prefer?"

"The guns."

It had been awhile since he had handled one of their guns, and he was chomping at the bit to do it again.

"Okay, try this one," Bobby said, setting in his open palm, a handgun.

"Okay."

Testing the feel of it, he easily loaded the clip that Bobby handed him, and pointed it at the targets that had already been set up.

Any normal parent or guardian would faint if they saw this, but to the guys and to Dean, it was normal as he squeezed the trigger and felt the familiar, satisfying jolt when the gun fired off.

"Nice," Bobby praised him, "almost right on target."

Dean beamed with pride as he handed the gun back to Bobby. "Thanks."

They worked on his aim for the next hour as Dean got more and more confident with each pull of the trigger, each gun he was handed, held a different level of power, but he handled them all effortlessly.

"That was real nice, bud."

"Thanks," Dean said.


	15. Chapter 15

"Dean, wake up," Sam said, jumping up and down on the now twelve-year-old's bed.

January 28th had come and gone in a blurry haze for Dean. It had been two weeks since Caleb had left and turned himself in, and so far, he hadn't been allowed to see him, not that he was surprised.

Minors weren't allowed to visit accused murderers, no matter how much they campaigned for it.

What made it worse for Dean was knowing in his heart of hearts that Caleb didn't deserve to be where he was, and that he was missing out on the celebrations that were happening around him.

"I'm up, brat," Dean said, attempting a smile for Sam's sake, even though he couldn't care less about his birthday this year, not when there was someone crucial missing from the fun.

"That's not nice," Sam said with a pout. "I got you something."

"What?" Dean asked suspiciously, as Sam held out a blue birthday envelope.

"Just read it," Sam said eagerly.

Taking the envelope from his eagerly outstretched hand, Dean smiled uncertainly before opening it.

_Happy Birthday to the bestest big brother ever!_

_Love, Sam_

Dean stared at the Batman-themed card in stunned awe. He and Sam had always been close, but this just proved to him how much his little brother cared about him, and the feeling couldn't have been more mutual.

"Thanks, Sam," Dean said, deciding to break his "no chick flick moment" rule, and embrace his brother.

Sam, while stunned at first, gladly accepted the hug. "You're welcome, Dean. Come downstairs!"

Rolling his eyes, and secretly wondering what the guys had done down there, he got dressed and followed his hyperactive little brother down the staircase.

Once he reached the kitchen, his jaw almost hit the floor. The kitchen had been decorated in Batman colors in honor of his birthday, streamers cheerfully wishing him a good day.

"Happy Birthday, Idjit," Bobby said, giving Dean a one-armed hug as Dean took his seat at the table.

"Thanks, guys," Dean said, not able to keep the smile off his face, as he looked at Jim as he placed a steaming pile of his favorite breakfast food in front of him.

"Happy Birthday," Jim said, bending down and giving Dean a hug.

"Thanks, and thanks for this."

"Of course," Bobby said, "don't be ridiculous."

And the occasion couldn't have fallen on a better day. A Saturday, a school free weekend and plenty of time to do whatever he felt like doing.

First on the agenda, was the new arcade that had recently opened in the town. Dean had been allowed to invite a handful of his friends from school to accompany them.

"Sam, did you see me win at that racing game?" Dean asked, going over to where Sam was playing bean bag toss.

"Yeah!" Sam said, raising his hand for a high-five. "Awesome."

"What are you playing? Some wimp game?"

"No!"

Dean couldn't resist. He always bugged Sam whenever he got the chance, and sometimes, even without him knowing it, Sam asked for it.

Dean supposed Sam couldn't help it. He was seven, and completely oblivious to the things he did to result in him getting teased.

Still it was fun.

After that, the guys traveled to the local pizza parlor where Dean indulged in his favorite, mouthwatering pizza and soda. Sam, to his utter delight, had been allowed to indulge in the sugary drink, too.

All in all, it had been a fantastic day, especially when he opened the presents he got from the guys, and Sam. A heap of new video games he had been eyeing, and some action figures that he made sure to stow up in his closet so Sam wouldn't reach them.

* * *

It had been an adjustment, getting used to jail. It wasn't just the complete loss of freedom and liberty, it was the fact that, wherever he looked, people were looking at Caleb like he really _was _the monster that had killed Lexa.

It had been two weeks since he had turned himself in,, and so far it had been a nightmare getting used to the new change in schedule, the new rules and how everything revolved around meetings with his attorney, meetings with the friends he allowed to see him, and adjusting to most time spend behind bars.

The food was nasty.

Either undercooked or overcooked.

And most inmates were cockier than most, and tried picking fights with him. A move he stubbornly ignored whenever he could get the chance.

Sometimes they took the choice right out of his hands when they made a physical move against him.

"How are you?" Jim asked.

Dawn had talked to the jail and had arranged a meeting room for them, supervised of course, but it was better than talking behind a thin sheet of glass with a telephone.

"Okay, I guess."

He wasn't miserable, and he wasn't happy. It was a numb sort of shock that had settled inside of him.

"Good. We had Dean's party."

Caleb smiled sadly, wishing more than anything that he had been there for it. "How did it go?"

"It was fun. It's been really hard for him to adjust to not having you there. But he seemed to let it all out for this one time."

"I'm glad."

If anyone deserved a mental break, it was Dean.

"He keeps asking when he can see you," Jim hedged.

Caleb shook his head. "I don't want him to see me like this."

Even though he would have given anything to see the kid, he didn't think it would be healthy for Dean to see him in prison stripes, and handcuffs.

"I don't either, but he keeps insisting on it."

Caleb nodded slowly, understanding. "I know. Tell him that the pre-trial hearing is happening sooner than I thought."

That perked Jim's interest. "So what does that mean?"

"If we do the hearing and the judge doesn't see enough evidence to send me to trial, I could get off like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"Good."

"Tell Dean, give the kid some hope."

"I will."


	16. Chapter 16

Caleb tried to keep his held high, even though most of him inside was breaking apart at the seams. Missing Dean's birthday party, and knowing how much it meant to Dean for him to be there.

Being in jail, it was exactly how people described it and more. The complete and total loss of liberty and freedom, was stunning at first, but more than that, it was getting used to the fact that he couldn't call the shots anymore.

Every move he made was now controlled by the corrections officers, and they held the power of making his stay there easy, or a living hell.

So far, it had been easy on their end. They treated him with the same respect he treated them. Unlike other inmates in his cell block, he didn't try to pull anything, and mostly kept to himself.

Regular visitations were limited to a handful a week, but his attorney had unlimited access to him, for which he was grateful.

Especially considering they had a hearing coming up that could clear this whole thing up. If he was lucky, and he didn't have much faith in that lately.

"Hey," he said, when the guards had led him to the private conference room where their meetings had been prearranged.

"Hi," Dawn said.

Professional and to the point, as always.

"What's the latest on this hearing?"

It was a pretrial one. It would give the judge a chance to hear the evidence, and decide if there was enough to proceed to trial.

"It will happen tomorrow."

"Do we have a chance?"

Dawn sighed. "Maybe. Witnesses are going to be called to testify, and Lexa Branch's family are going to be called to testify."

"What are they saying?"

He hadn't spoken to them since before Lexa had died, and he had no idea what they thought, if they thought he was a murderer, or if they believed the truth.

"They are fully supporting you."

"Seriously?"

That was a relief, and a weight off his chest if he had the murder victim's family on his side. It would make him look better in the eyes of a jury or judge, and maybe sway the case on his side.

"Yes. It's not a guarantee, but with their support, it should make a huge impression on the judge."

Caleb nodded. "Do you know the judge?"

"I do. He's fair. He's always tried to see the good in people, and he's always tried to be as objective as he could."

"How about when it comes to murder?"

"He's very fair."

"Okay."


	17. Chapter 17

The morning of Caleb's crucial hearing dawned. Dawn had warned him not to expect a miracle, but if she could use the Branch's testimony in her favor, and try to discredit as much of the evidence as she could, there could be a chance he could win the case and be home that night.

Hearing those words, Caleb tried not to get too excited. There was too much to gain and too much to lose to be too excited over something that, at best, was a far off possibility.

Having Lexa's family on his side, was huge and he recognized that. Two people who had never him in their lives, except for that one brief visit, were backing him. Either he had made a stronger impression on them than he thought, or they trusted Lexa's judgment.

Either way, he wasn't complaining, and certainly wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"It's important," Dawn said, once visiting hours had begun in the jail. "That you try to stay as neutral as possible. Don't make any facial expressions at all, it will just throw the judge off."

"Okay."

The hearing was only a few hours away, and Dawn had been allowed to see him to prepare him for the hearing, and prepare him for what could happen.

"Lexa's family will be allowed to speak after the forensics team is done presenting their case."

"Are they on our side or theirs?"

"It's hard to say at this point, but whatever physical evidence they gathered at the scene, will be admitted into evidence. It's a waiting game now."

Caleb nodded. "How long will the hearing last?"

"A few hours most likely."

"When will you talk?"

"After the prosecution is done."

"What about me?"

Caleb knew from having a police brother that testifying for your own defense, was a risky move, and could expose way more than he felt comfortable with, but if it would save his skin, he would be willing to do anything.

"No. Let me do the talking."

"Good."

He was hoping she would say that.

A little while after their talk had concluded, the guards came and got him for the start of the proceedings. Of course, since he was being transferred to the county courthouse, he had to be cuffed and shackled.

It was a part of the process, and he didn't fight it, even though it made walking uncomfortable, and the fact that while in those restraints, he almost began to believe what others had told him, that he was a monster and a criminal.

Thankfully, the ride to the courthouse was short, and so he would be presented in a favorable light to the judge, the cuffs and shackles had come off right before he entered the courtroom.

A hush had fallen over the small room as he took his place next to Dawn. She had been writing notes down, but looked up when he sat down.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No," he whispered.

Too much was riding on this hearing for him to feel anything but nervousness and a cautious hope that things could work out for once.

The proceedings started almost immediately. The judge began the morning by presenting a summary of the evidence, and introducing the main players.

He recognized the prosecutor who had so brutally interviewed him days before his arrest, stand up, nod in a friendly gesture to the judge, and began to address the courtroom.

"Your Honor," the prosecutor said, looking directly at him. "We would like to move to dismiss this case."

Caleb wasn't sure what had happened, but he looked at Dawn, who clearly hadn't been expecting that, either, as she met Caleb's gaze.

"Does Counsel have a reason for this decision?" the judge asked.

"Your Honor, it is our belief that some of the crucial blood evidence has been tainted, and we do not feel we can proceed without it."

Caleb felt numb with shock, as he shifted his glance from the prosector to the judge.

"Is there anyway you can proceed without it?"

Clearly, the judge was trying to give the prosecution any loophole he could.

"No, Your Honor."

Of course.

Dawn had told him that their entire case hinged on the DNA evidence the shifter had left behind when he had killed Lexa.

Without it, they had no case, and they knew it.

"Well," the judge said, "in this case, I have no choice but to close this case. The defendant is hereby released from custody."

As Caleb got up to move, he saw Lexa's family inching closer toward him, no doubt wanting to offer him their congratulations.

"I'm so happy for you," her aunt said, giving him a tight hug.

"Thank you," Caleb said, his voice tight, "for believing in me."

"Thank _you _for being a good friend to our niece when she needed it the most."


	18. Chapter 18

Caleb felt numb to his core as he heard the judge hand down his final degree, that he would be let go, that based on the prosecutor's statement, he would be allowed his freedom back.

He was sure that Christmas had come early.

That a miracle, for once, had struck down on him.

"What just happened?" he whispered, turning to Dawn.

"The evidence was corrupted somehow. I don't know how."

They didn't have much time to talk after that.

The guards swiftly stepped between he and Dawn, and began leading him back out the door that he had come, though now he knew that he was being lead toward freedom.

Instead of the handcuffs and shackles coming back on, they allowed him to ride freely in the back of the squad car on the way to the jail to sign his release papers and get his things back.

It was different, riding in the back of the car and not feel like a criminal anymore.

Once back at the jail, he was gifted with a plastic bag containing the clothes that he had worn into the jail.

Stripping off the suit he had worn to court, he quickly changed into the jeans and t-shirt that were in the bag, and slipped on the leather bracelet and wedding ring he still wore, that had also been stripped from him.

"So what happens now?" he asked, when Dawn entered the room.

"Well, it's hard to say. Just because the prosecution is dropping the case, it doesn't mean they won't try again if they come up with new evidence."

Caleb nodded, sucking in a breath. He had figured as much since he hadn't been formally acquitted of the murder, just let go because of lack of evidence.

"Thank you for everything," he said. "You really saved my ass."

"I didn't do a lot, but thanks anyway."

Caleb smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "How long will it be before the release papers are signed?"

"Shouldn't be too long."

Instead of waiting in his cell for the papers to be filed, he was permitted to wait out in the main part of the jail with Jim, who had gone to court that morning in support of him.

"Can you believe any of this?" Jim asked, once he had finally seen Caleb face-to-face.

"No," Caleb said. "I thought he was joking when he first said it."

"I did, too."

Caleb laughed once.

Getting his first breath of fresh air in more than a month, Caleb still couldn't believe this day was real, as he climbed into the car with Jim.

Checking the time, he knew that the boys would still be at school for another few hours, enabling him to take a quick shower and a nap if he was lucky.

Unsurprisingly, sleep had been scarce when he had been behind bars. It was too torturous to listen to the people cry, listen to them shout vile and repulsive things to each other, and know that while they most likely deserved to be there, he didn't.

"The boys will be home pretty soon," Caleb remarked, looking at the time once they had stepped through the door.

"Yeah," Jim said with a smile. "Bobby's been staying here helping, he's on his way now I think."

"I'm going to run upstairs and get a shower. If they get back before I come down, don't tell Dean."

"I won't."

It would be the last thing on earth Dean would ever expect, and Caleb wanted to surprise him when he got home for school.

But in the meantime, he was glad that he had a chance to clean up and get the jail smell off of him and into some clean, fresh clothing.

The shower was heaven, he was sure. In the jail, showers were often in full view of other inmates and even the corrections officers.

Humiliating was an understatement.

He was just glad that it was over, and he could enjoy his showers in the privacy of his own bathroom.

When he got out and got a new set of clothes on, he could hear Dean talking downstairs with the guys.

Smiling to himself, he took the steps quietly, so as not to alert Dean that something was amiss.

"Hey, dude," he said, sneaking up right behind Dean.

It was almost comical how Dean spun around. His big eyes widening in astonishment, before he wrapped his arms around him.

Caleb gladly embraced the hug, as he too hugged the boy.

"How are you back?" Dean asked, shaking his head in confusion. "I thought-"

"Well," Caleb said, "the ass that was the prosecutor got too confident, and when push came to shove, he knew he didn't have a case and he admitted it."

"Wow," Dean said, smiling. "At least you got lucky this time."

"Yeah, this time."

"So what now?"

"It's up to you, dude."

"Train, watch something?"

"It's your afternoon."


	19. Chapter 19

Dean's perfect idea of an afternoon with Caleb, turned out to be nothing short of relaxation and the type of activity that they both loved, and that was training.

It wasn't the same without him. Training with Bobby had been nice, but it hadn't felt right when it wasn't Caleb. Now that he was back (hopefully for good), he could resume his normal routine with a confident smile on his face.

"Show me how to throw a right hook."

Caleb watched patiently as Dean righted his position, and then worked his fist so it was facing the appropriate position. It was a difficult maneuver, but one that Dean had worked on so hard and had nearly perfected.

"Like that?" Dean asked, once he had thrown the punch at the punching bag.

"Perfect," Caleb smiled. "In no time, you'll be a little hellraiser."

"I think I already _am_," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

After a few more practice runs on the punching bag, Caleb took their training outside where he set up the target shooting.

"Which one."

Dean looked at the guns that were all carefully laid out for him to choose from. He liked using the rifles, but there was something about the feel and power of having a handgun that he couldn't compete with.

"This one."

"Good choice. Stand back a little, and keep your eye constantly on the target. Your center focus." 

Dean nodded as he held the gun firmly in his hands, keeping his sights constantly focused on the target a few feet from him.

Over time, he had perfected his shot so that he was able to do it over long distances, and make the target.

It was quite an accomplishment for a twelve-year-old, and a feat that he was extremely proud of.

"Good job," Caleb praised, once Dean had hit the target.

"It was off."

"Damn near close, bud. You can't beat yourself up every time you don't hit it."

"Yeah, you're right."

It still stung that he hadn't reached the target he had wanted to, but he guessed that would have to wait until he had had more practice.


	20. Chapter 20

_Epilogue_

Going back to Medina felt like tempting fate more than he was comfortable with, but Caleb knew he couldn't let this one go. It was person, avenging Lexa's death, and the subsequent sequence of events that had followed immediately after.

Still, stepping through the darkened side alley, he almost had second thoughts about the whole thing. The last thing he needed was to have another murder charge on his tail, especially since the prosecutor was bound and determined to find _something _against him that would stick.

That phone call from Dawn had been the last thing he needed before he had set off for Medina, but he wouldn't turn back now.

Tucking his gun loaded with silver bullets in the waistband of his jeans, he walked slowly through the alley, acutely aware of the fact that alleys and dark streets in general, were prime hunting grounds for these monters.

"Come back for round two?" a voice from behind taunted.

"Yeah, actually," Caleb said, turning around at the same time the monster did.

"Well, you just walked into your own funeral."

Caleb wasn't in the mood for games anymore. With reflexes that had been honed from years of hunting and perfecting his trade, he pointed his loaded gun at the shifter, pulling the trigger.

The shifter was fast and dodged out of the way faster than Caleb had expected, as he aimed a kick at Caleb's stomach, sending him flying backwards, and landing with a painful crash on the ground.

Undeterred, he sprang to his feet, checking the rounds in the chamber to make sure he had enough, before he aimed again.

"You just don't get it, do you?" The shifter taunted, hoisting Caleb up by his throat before throwing him back. "You can't win, I already proved that once when I slit the slut's throat."

Recovering his lost breath for a split second, Caleb sprang to his feet with a renewed sense of urgency, as he pulled out his silver dagger that he had hid in his boot.

The shifter's eyes widened, before it charged Caleb, gripping his wrist as it tried to wrestle the knife from him, but Caleb held firm as he aimed a kick at the shifter.

The power of the kick momentarily downed the shifter, and Caleb used the advantage to take the upper hand as he loomed over the monster, his blade clasped tightly in his hand as he looked down at the shifter.

"This," he said, plunging the knife in the shifter's heart, "is for Lexa."

It was over. The shifter was gone, and more importantly, Lexa's death had been avenged.

With satisfaction swelling in his veins, he headed home.

To the boys.

To his family.

* * *

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorited this story. Each and every response has truly meant the world to me. I especially thank AlecDeanFan and BranchSuper for consistently reviewing this story and others that I have put up. You guys are amazing. Thank you!_

_As for future installments: I am planning a third and final sequel to sort of wrap everything up. And maybe a one-shot series that covers everything in between this story, and some future adventures they go on, as well. _

_Thank you again!_


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